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This year the acute discrimination Black people face has been brought to the forefront.
Black LGBT people have been severely affected by the global pandemic, as well as the trauma of systemic racism, homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia experienced by the entire community. Now more than ever, we need allies to step up and take action.
We know that many people have looked to find ways to support the Black community during this time of immense pain and uncertainty. Sometimes this allyship can be positive and other times it can be misguided. Allyship is not a single step, it is an ongoing journey. It takes work, self-reflection and making that conscious decision over and over to step up until it becomes embedded in how we behave.
This Black History Month, some of Stonewall’s Black LGBT staff have discussed the most effective ways to be an active ally to Black LGBT people.
1. Listen to us
The last year has provided some much needed opportunities for Black LGBT people to be heard in spaces where they have been traditionally silenced or overlooked.
It's so important that your first step as an ally is to listen to and believe us when we tell you what we’ve experienced. Trying to ‘explain away’ racism is harmful and makes you complicit in upholding a racist system. Listen even when it is difficult to hear. It’s a lot harder for Black LGBT people to be open about their experiences. No matter how well-intentioned you thought you were, understand and accept when you have made a mistake.
It is also important that you do not take one Black LGBT person’s story as the only story. This risks allies treating us as one homogenous group. In fact, the Black LGBT community has a vast array of identities and experiences that must be recognised.
2. Do not ask Black LGBT people something you can learn yourself
We need you to listen to us, but we do not always have to be the ones supporting your education. Repeatedly explaining the realities of racism, homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia by people who actually experience it, is exhausting.
This blog and the resources on our Black History Month hub are only the beginning of your journey. There are so many great anti-racism resources that you can read and begin to learn from and grow a greater understanding and empathy for the challenges Black LGBT people face. Make sure this reading takes an intersectional approach to our experiences and are written by Black people. We would encourage you to build on this learning through discussions with other allies, so you can learn from each other.
It’s not Black LGBT people’s responsibility to relive our trauma or justify our existence. Rather than place emotional labour on your Black LGBT friends, educate yourself.
3. Recognise and use your privilege
The reality is that society is set up to benefit some people more than others. When you benefit from a certain structure or environment, you have a privilege. White people, cis people and straight people are inherently advantaged in certain ways by how society is structured, despite their own efforts, income, or background.
Acknowledging your privilege does not mean you have not worked for what you have or experienced hardship. It simply means that you have not been discriminated against due to certain aspects of your identity.
Once you can acknowledge your privilege, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you, you can use it to centre and amplify the experiences of others who may not have been afforded the same advantages as you. This can be giving up a seat on a panel to someone with a particularly underrepresented identity, or using the fact that people listen to you in meetings to insist on input from marginalised communities. It is important to consider this in all areas of your life as this will look different for everyone.
4. Speak up
Once you have done your research, you need to use your platform to speak up about the experiences of Black LGBT people. It is not enough for Black people to call things out, we need allies to speak up too.
Use your platform to educate others. Make sure you do not use your platform to speak over Black LGBT people or take credit for their work. Rather than take up space, centre Black LGBT people in the conversation. Amplify Black voices by directly sharing information created by Black LGBT people.
Be careful not to be performative in your allyship. Do not just speak up when our experiences are ‘trending’, make sure to keep up the momentum.
5. Your allyship is not inclusive if it does not include Black trans people
The lives of Black trans people were painfully overlooked this year in the Black Lives Matter movement – and always have been. This fails to highlight the higher levels of discrimination and violence that Black trans people face compared to Black cis people.
Being an ally to Black LGBT people means understanding the experiences of Black trans people in how their oppression is compounded by being Black and trans, and speaking out against transphobia.
Where you are able, support fundraisers for Black trans people’s transistions and housing needs. Black trans people suffer disproportionately from unemployment, pushing many into poverty, precarious housing situations and limiting access to essential healthcare.
6. Call it what it is. Anti-blackness
It is important to understand that racism impacts different races in different ways. Anti-blackness is a specific kind of racial prejudice towards Black people. It is inherently rooted in colonialism, the legacy of slavery, and eugenics.
Racist attempts to 'rank' races in order of value or worthiness have consistently placed Black people at the bottom, leading to a normalisation of anti-black across many cultures. While non-black people of colour often experience racism, anti-blackness can still be rampant in those communities that have a history of perceiving themselves as superior to Black people.
By acknowledging that the experiences Black LGBT people face are anti-black, and that racial discrimination can disproportionately affect Black people, we can take a step towards dismantling white supremacy.
7. Use the right language
Terms such as BAME (Black, Asian and minority ethnic) and PoC (people of colour) offer a limited and simplified understanding of race, often holding white people as the norm, and maintaining a eurocentric view of the world. They can suggest a homogenised experience for all people who aren’t white, when this is a dangerous oversimplification of reality. Within these communities, colourism and misogynoir are common experiences, and it's important to acknowledge that there are varying experiences caused by differing levels of privilege across these communities. Acknowledging and discussing uniquely Black experiences as those specific to the community, allows us to understand the particular steps and actions we need to take to drive forward tangible change.
If you find yourself needing to describe an individual’s race or ethnicity, and you know that they describe themselves as Black, Latinx or Brown – to name but a few – always use those terms rather than contentious umbrella terms.
8. Showcase Black LGBT people
We cannot overstate the importance of seeing yourself in positions of power in areas like the workplace, media, and education. It is validating, inspiring, and proves that people who look like you can achieve success in those areas.
In your workplaces, consider making D&I targets that do not just cover BAME, but also Black people explicitly. Not only are you supporting Black LGBT people in employment, but having our perspectives in decision making rooms only benefits your projects and external outputs. In fact, Forbes found in 2017 that diverse teams make better decisions in the workplace 87% of the time. However, in your effort to include Black LGBT people, take care not to fall into tokenistic practices. For instance, do not recruit Black people to positions of power but retain the authority or simply use them to excuse your organisation’s own racist and discriminatory behaviour.
The importance of Black LGBT representation in the media is vital, but it is important to consider who is creating the content. So often stories about Black people and Black LGBT people are full of hurtful stereotypes and misconceptions where Black LGBT people are reduced to only parts of their identity. Consider the opportunities you have access to, which perhaps Black LGBT creators cannot access, and how you share them. If you can’t tell Black LGBT stories right, then let Black LGBT people tell them.
9. Create spaces that are inclusive of Black LGBT people
Too often Black LGBT people must access spaces, especially LGBT spaces that claim to be safe, that perpetuate anti-blackness. Challenge racism vocally and ensure that your spaces do not perpetuate barriers to inclusion for Black LGBT people. Think about the touchpoints and obstacles where you are. Do they prevent people from accessing that space?
10. Support Black-owned businesses and fundraisers
Many Black LGBT people are simply not afforded the same opportunities as white people, and can suffer numerous inequalities in areas of housing, employment, healthcare, and education to name a few.
By supporting Black-owned businesses as part of your day-to-day purchases, you can support the community and help to begin to bridge these gaps.
For a lot of Black businesses likely to be smaller with less access to funding, supporting them will not only better them financially but provide opportunities to employ more Black people, provide more access to specific services that Black people need, and uplift the community.
The Black LGBT community have done so many incredible things this year, from raising money for amazing projects and organisations, to individuals going above and beyond to raise awareness and support the community.
This Black History Month, we wanted to spotlight five incredible individuals and organisations who are doing ground-breaking work this year to support the Black LGBT community. Find out more about their work and see how you can get involved and support them.
1. BAME Fundraising Virtual Conference
Martha Awojobi (she/her) is a consultant, writer and campaigner. Through her involvement in Charity So White and anti-racism work at her consultancy firm JMB, she aims to tackle institutional racism in organisations and supports them to be open about racism and find ways to recruit and retain BAME talent.
In July 2020, Martha put on one of the most groundbreaking and needed conversations on being a person of colour in the fundraising sector, a traditionally white-dominated space. With sessions like 'Ethical Copywriting and Imagery' and 'Building Resilience Through Innovation and Entrepreneurship', the conference empowered so many attendees to think about what it means for them to be in or consider joining and transforming the fundraising charity sector. In Martha’s words, the conference was ‘unapologetically black’, with more than half the speakers being Black, which really showcased what the community can do and why it’s so important to include us
The PoC staff network at Stonewall funded several our staff of colour to join the session and they had this to say about this event:
“It allowed me to visualise myself in a career that, frankly, the charity landscape told me I could not access. It described fundraising through a lens that made sense to me as a black person, and honestly inspired me to consider a career change if the right job came up” - Tajah
See more information about the virtual conference.
2. Black Trans Foundation
Azekel Axelle Nasah (they/them) is a Black queer non-binary activist based in Leeds and London who works to create community spaces that foster an environment of safety and acceptance for communities including Black trans people, QTIPOC people and Black women in particular. They currently lead the QTIPOC Leeds group, previously lead by Monisha, where their events and projects resulted in them receiving a Positive Impact award from the University of Leeds.
Their most recent project this year has been setting up a CIC for Black trans people. The Black Trans Foundation will be a new non-profit organisation working for the advancement of Black trans people in the UK. They aim to build a world where Black trans and gender-nonconforming people have the same access to healthcare and opportunities as their cisgender counterparts. They endeavour to ensure that Black trans peoples’ pathways to gender euphoria are adorned with equal access and bountiful opportunities.
They are currently looking for Black trans therapists for their Black Trans Free Therapy scheme and a Black trans graphic designer/illustrator/artist to commission. Email at blacktransfoundation@gmail.com to enquire. They will be launching a fundraiser soon for the scheme so to stay updated follow them at @blacktransfoundation.
3. Exist Loudly
Tanya Compas (she/her) is an experienced youth worker and activist, supporting queer Black young people in London. She is constantly working on projects to support the Black community including the Queer Black Christmas which she set up last year to support other Black queer youth who, like herself at the time, were homeless or estranged from their families. This event provided them with an alternative way to celebrate with their community and chosen family.
Recognising the specific support that queer Black young people need, Tanya’s next big project has been setting up a new organisation ‘Exist Loudly’ which is set up to create spaces of joy and community for queer Black young people. The organisation will run digital workshops, mentoring sessions and social events. Most notably, they have launched a research project to understand the experiences of Black LGBT+ youth in the UK in the areas of health care, education and home; the first of its kind in the UK.
Exist Loudly raised over £100,000 to begin this extremely important work, which they were able to split with other great Black queer projects. To keep informed about what happens next follow the Exist Loudly project on social.
4. Purple Rain Collective
Photo credit: Myah Jeffers
Tobi Adebajo (they/them) is a community focused queer hair stylist, organiser, parent, scientist, singer, and writer who works with prowess. They centre their work on the depths and nuances of various topics such as queer love, politics, black sexuality, healing, and more.
Their work aims to highlight the varying inaccessibilities of social spaces, especially queer ones.
Tobi recently released a queer punk album ’Wastewomxn’ with their transcontinental band A.T.K. The music is fuelled by the group’s Yoruba and Japanese cultures and diasporic existences.
Tobi is a core member of the Purple Rain Collective and has also created an ever-growing network for Black Femmes & Femmes of Colour. This year Purple Rain Collective in particular have gone above and beyond to support the LGBT+ community. Throughout the pandemic, they have been signposting QTIBPOC to resources and support, and tirelessly donating to emergency fundraisers on a global scale. The collective has organised events such as online meditation sessions, and are currently building care packages that will be distributed to low income QTIBPOC families in the UK.
5. Li Benedetti
Li Benedetti (they/them) is a Black Brazilian non-binary creative producer and LGBT+ activist based in London who advocates and supports the QTIPOC community through their work. Li has worked on many projects for a number of organisations like Google, Albert Kennedy Trust and Stonewall where they hosted Stonewall’s Children and Young People Conference in 2019. Passionate about sharing the complexities of what it means to be LGBT, Black, and someone with a learning disability, they use their experiences to create digital content and run community-based events and programmes.
During the pandemic, Li compiled a number of ways to support the QTIPOC community as well as educate allies to step up meaningfully. Through infographics like ‘things not to say to a Black person’, 'how to be a better trans ally’ and ‘coming out tips from a trans person’ they have created invaluable resources. They are now working on setting up an online store inspired by some of these infographics. They have also set up LGBTQIA+ livestreams with topics ranging from community and the importance of QTIPOC only spaces as well as looking at queer fashion and beauty.
Apart from their online activism they are planning this year’s Trans Winter Wonderland, which is a trans-only festive event they fundraised for and ran for the first time last year.
Black History Month x Stonewall hub.
In this guest blog Bex Shorunke, Senior Media Officer at akt, details what needs to change in order for the third sector to become a truly inclusive place for Black people and people of colour.
How can the charity sector be more pro-black?
The third sector is having a reckoning about its shortcomings in achieving diversity. The Black Lives Matter movement has spotlighted severe racial discrepancies across all sectors – and charities are no exception.
The #charitysowhite hashtag originally emerged in 2019, however, it has since become emblematic of the ongoing struggle for minorities to be heard. And recently, it’s been a galvanising call to arms, the demands of which are simple: ethnic minority representation at all levels of seniority, respect for the experiences of those impacted and a commitment to disarming institutional racism, within and outside of the sector.
I am a senior media officer at akt. The charity works with LGBTQ+ young people experiencing homelessness, facing familial rejection, or living in a hostile environment. Sadly, the LGBT sector mirrors the same complex and sometimes problematic relationship with black and brown queer people.
Stonewall released a statement detailing that just over half of all black, Asian and minority ethnic LGBT people report experiencing discrimination or poor treatment within their local LGBT network. This rises to three in every five black LGBT people.
Organisations need to give black and brown people a seat at the table.
Unsurprisingly, these experiences carry over into the workplace when it comes to QTIBPOC working in the LGBT charity sector. It is for this reason that organisations need to give black and brown people a seat at the table. Aside from representation itself, it ensures practices are put in place to secure the fair treatment of black and brown people themselves, and their successors.
But what does that look like?
‘Charities need to redefine their diversity and racism policies to be in line with black people’s experiences,’ states Leigh, who is the London Services Manager for akt and the most senior black staff member.
‘They need to listen to current black and POC members of staff. That means paying attention to the impact microaggressions have on minority staff wellbeing and mental health.’
At akt, 66 per cent of the young people we work with are black and POC, rising to 77 per cent in London. Their stories and the barriers they exclusively face are voiced through the media work we do. It is therefore key that the experiences of our staff of ethnic minority backgrounds are valued to the same degree. So, in response to the Black Lives Matter movement, akt took some responsibility to act on racial disparities and put new measures in place.
We set up an Equalities, Diversity and Inclusion committee. Though this was set up prior to BLM, its mission fits into the framework of fighting anti-blackness. EDI strives to implement a culture that is institutionally anti-oppressive, anti-racist, anti-ableist, anti-misogynistic and trans positive.
‘EDIs only work if organisations fully commit to resource and understand the work it takes,’ affirms Leigh.
The EDI’s insightful survey and presentation in which staff were able to voice opinions on diversity, transparency and leadership has proven invaluable. They provided a refreshing and honest critique of processes and interpersonal relations – which may not have been achieved without it. No doubt the EDI’s plans to provide anti-racism training for staff will prove equally impactful. And in a less formal vein, a black and POC network was set up. This provides a safe space for us to connect and seek counsel with one another – a priceless necessity.
The next step in combatting racism was to agree on a set of commitments for each team to adhere to. These promised to prioritise the needs of black and brown queer folk and champion their work.
For the Communications team, these commitments meant ensuring at least 65 per cent of any paid content creators we collaborated with would be black or POC, supporting grassroots volunteer groups tackling racism or transphobia in a communications capacity, and engaging black and POC voices in our public affairs and policy implementation work.
This sentiment is also being channelled into our work for Black History Month. We are collaborating with black creatives such as Shah, Char Bailey and Li Benedetti. They will be teaching their audience about the foundations of storytelling within a podcast framework, speaking about the benefits of self-care during this time, and there will even be a much anticipated voguing masterclass. Black History Month also presents a chance for staff to reflect upon their lived experience, and where possible, use that for the benefit of inspiring others.
There is still much work to be done.
So there is progress being made at akt, but there is still much work to be done. This October will see charities observe the triumphs of black people with a renewed curiosity for 31 days. However, the dedication required by the third sector – by the LGBT sector – to disarm racist practices and equalise the playing field will take years – and some.
Black History Month x Stonewall hub.
There’s a lot of discussion in the media and online recently about the use of gender pronouns.
Gender pronouns aren’t new though. We use them all the time to identify and refer to someone. Describing people as ‘he’ or ‘she’, groups of people as ‘they’ or ‘them’, as well as inanimate things as ‘it’ is something we all do every day. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What some people may not know is there are many valid gender-neutral pronouns that are becoming increasingly common. This would include the use of the singular ‘they’ or ‘ze’. An extensive list of more English gender-neutral pronouns in use are available on the non-binary wiki.
Using gender-neutral pronouns means we don’t associate the person we’re talking about with a specific gender.
Using gender-neutral pronouns means we don’t associate the person we’re talking about with a specific gender. Sex does not predetermine a person’s gender and many people’s gender doesn’t sit comfortably with the sex they were assigned at birth. The easiest way to learn what pronouns someone uses is just to politely ask them (“Hey, what pronouns do you use?”).
It might take some getting used to, but it causes you no harm and using the right pronouns for someone will make them feel acknowledged and valid.
When you’re at work, you can take the lead by saying your pronouns when you introduce yourself at the start of a meeting. Not only will this encourage your colleagues to do the same, but it will help everyone get used to talking about pronouns, which will help trans people feel more comfortable to do the same. Including pronouns in e-mail signatures is another great way to show that you and your organisation is committed to trans equality:
- This helps people respectfully refer to one another.
- It helps staff avoid mistakes, like misgendering someone which can be especially hurtful for trans people, but also embarrassing for non-trans people.
- It can be a great tool for visibly demonstrating trans allyship both internally to your organisation and externally.
If you want to start including pronouns in your e-mail signatures, here’s some practical steps for how you can do this in your workplace:
- Communicate that you are going to start including pronouns in e-mail signatures. Discuss this with your LGBT staff network and determine whether any internal system holders need to be notified or consulted (e.g. Comms team, IT managers). You should have a plan of how best to communicate the benefits of including pronouns in e-mails to internal staff.
- Including pronouns in e-mail signatures should be encouraged, but not be made compulsory as not everyone may feel comfortable sharing their pronouns. There are many different reasons for this and it may be true for both cis and trans staff. (This should also be remembered when verbally introducing pronouns at the start of meetings.)
- You could also include a link to a webpage that gives a definition of pronouns. For example: Pronouns: She/ Her
It’s worth remembering that the phrase ‘preferred pronouns’ is no longer used. Terms like this make it sound like someone’s gender is up for debate. Intentionally using the wrong pronouns for someone repeatedly is a hurtful form of misgendering.
The thing is though, we all make mistakes. So if you get someone’s pronouns wrong please quickly apologise and correct yourself. You can also show solidarity with someone who uses pronouns that others may mistake by politely correcting someone who has used the wrong pronoun even when the person isn’t there.
If you use pronouns that some people may not automatically assume for you please remember to not compromise on them. Ask people to use them. Everyone who cares about you and wants to be part of your life will get there.
Further information can be found on the My Pronouns and International Pronouns Day websites.
Nessakem Vanessa Nwosu, Assistant Social Media Coordinator at African Rainbow Family, speaks up about the issue of the UK Government’s intention to outsource asylum interviews and what we can do about it. African Rainbow Family supports African LGBTIQ people seeking asylum including Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic (BAME) people.
Last month, the Independent reported the intention of the Home Office to outsource asylum interviews. African Rainbow Family is saddened by this news and would like it to be addressed as we celebrate Black History Month.
The problem of outsourcing asylum interviews
Outsourcing asylum interviews means allowing private companies and/or organisations not related to the immigration system, and/or have no experience in asylum and immigration application decision processes, to conduct substantial interviews for people seeking asylum.
The purported reason for this action is to reduce the backlog of awaiting interviews.
While this might sound reasonable, it's very worrying. Many of the companies in the running for this new contract have been embroiled in previous scandals over their handling of immigration services.
"This is another way that the Home Office seeks to continue to deny people seeking asylum access to justice and setting them up to fail. We are watching another hostile environment akin to the Windrush Generation scandal develop. This decision is unreasonable, and the Home Office should rescind it." - Aderonke Apata, founder of African Rainbow Family and human rights activist.
According to the Independent, outsourcing asylum interviews was a failure: it was unjust and excluded people from the system. "Sopra Steria, which was contracted to run the UK’s visa processing system in 2018, was accused last year of overseeing a “substandard” operation that risked unlawful decisions and excluding people from the system because of “inflated prices and inaccessible services”.
This same company is among the contractors in the running to conduct substantial interviews again. We know this decision has many negative outcomes for people seeking asylum, increasing their anxiety and stress.
One of the other contractors being considered, Serco, is just as problematic. Serco manages the notorious Yarl’s Wood Immigration Removal Centre, which used to house women on behalf of the Home Office. In September 2013, Serco’s staff were alleged to have sexually assaulted women in the centre to whom they owed a duty of care. More recently, in 2018, the company prompted outrage when it introduced lock changes in asylum accommodation in Glasgow. The company was locking out those whose claims had been refused by the Home Office, leaving them destitute.
There's a great fear that there would be bias when to conducting interviews and/or assessing applications of Black LGBTIQ people, including LGBTIQs from the Black Asian Minority Ethnic (BAME) groups, and not just LGBTIQ people, but everyone seeking asylum.
And there’s a concern about how interviews would be conducted by individuals who have not received any training on immigration matters, or being run by companies that have shown a lack of compassion for people seeking asylum in the past. The Home Office has received complaints about its processes before; who is to say this will not be worse?
What is African Rainbow Family doing about it?
This is an issue that affects us all just as we all dream of a world without prejudice. Change starts with addressing matters like this.
A problem addressed and spoken of is on its way to being solved because then people are made aware of it and start to speak up against it.
The founder of African Rainbow Family, Aderonke Apata, when she was detained indefinitely for over a year in Yarl's Wood immigration detention centre in 2012, started talking loudly and campaigning from inside the detention centre about women being detained indefinitely. This led to an inquiry by the All Party Parliamentary Group on Refugees & Migration into the Use of Immigration Detention in the United Kingdom. Finally, we won the fight. No more detention of women!
What can you do about it?
Tweet at the Home Office and Priti Patel - ask them to rescind this toxic approach that denies people seeking asylum the safety they deserve.
We celebrate the heroes before us who set the path for us to follow and even if we have different ways or approaches to get there, we will.
Happy Black History Month.
African Rainbow Family supports LGBTIQ people of African heritage and wider BAME seeking asylum including refugees. Contact us if you need support or for someone else:
Email: info(at)africanrainbowfamily.org
Support our work: donate to African Rainbow Family today.
Read more articles on Black History Month x Stonewall.
In this guest blog Tobias Hunter, co-president of the University of Liverpool’s LGBT+ Society (at time of writing), speaks about their experiences of being trans and ace, and the media representation of ace people.
Going through puberty can be a struggle for anyone, but for a particular population within our society it can be hell on earth. I still remember the shock and horror I experienced when I began my first bleed and how I spent the week curled up in bed crying until the tears would flow no more – not because of any form of pain but from the confusion more than anything else. I didn’t understand why I was going through this ‘rite of passage into womanhood’ when I was so clearly a man.
‘Transgender’ wasn’t introduced into my vocabulary until many years afterwards and so I had no words to describe what I felt, except betrayal at what my body was doing to me. But while I slowly began to come to terms with my identity as a trans man, and later as non-binary, there were still parts of the puzzle that didn’t fit or align with the experience of the other trans individuals I met.
I had settled on describing myself as gay since I could imagine myself settling down with a masculine partner but not a feminine one. However, I never experienced the same urges as my peers seemed to, never had the drive to ‘jump someone’ as a classmate put it, and the thought of kissing or cuddling or even so much as holding hands with another person disgusted me. For a long time, I chalked this up to the repulsion I had for my own body and thought it no more than another form of dysphoria along with my hatred of my breasts, my height, and my hair.
Ace people growing up are left with no explanation as to why they don’t feel the same way.
If I had not been struggling with my gender identity and subsequent rock-bottom self-esteem and body image issues that followed, maybe I would have figured out my asexuality sooner. Or maybe not. Having met many more people on the ace spectrum since, it’s becoming ever clearer that the oversexualisation of celebrities in the media, the appearance of a sexual subplot no matter how irrelevant to the film (see Captain America’s kiss with Peggy’s great-niece in Civil War), and the ever-living societal pressure to get married and have children means that ace people growing up are left with no explanation as to why they don’t feel the same way. As a result, many of us end up questioning whether we ourselves are merely broken?
If you were to believe the few pieces of representation of ace people on screen, then you might be led to question that too. If Dr House from medical drama, House, is to be believed, you might too think that there is always a ‘medical reason’ for our asexuality. Were we abused or traumatised as children? Is something suppressing our libido?
But, searching for a cause implies that being ace is a ‘dysfunction’, and that there must be some reason for it - some way to explain away our ace identity, some way that doesn’t threaten the fabric of our heteronormative society.
Understanding your identity and knowing that it is valid means questioning what we are taught by society.
Understanding your identity and knowing that it is valid means questioning what we are taught by society. Just as being trans forces you to rethink what you thought you knew about gender, being ace means disentangling the expectation that your happiness depends on being in a relationship.
Gatekeeping is rife in both the ace and trans communities. Wherever you look, wherever you go, someone will be telling you how you must live your life and what you can or can’t identify as. Whether it’s rules around libido, porn, masturbation, and arousal, or rules around dysphoria, hormones, choices to transition or not, to have surgery or not… the list is endless, and no matter where you fall you will always come across someone who seeks to invalidate your identity.
One thing I have come to accept on my journey to discover where I truly belong is that we have no business attempting to police anyone’s identity. I so often hear the arguments that aces don’t face the same oppression or discrimination as others in the LGBT+ community. I hope the parallels I’ve drawn here in my experience as a transgender and asexual person will prove them wrong.
This Ace Week take a moment to consider and reflect on your actions and words. As members of the LGBT+ community, we should know how isolating and heart-breaking it is to face constant discrimination and erasure in our lives and why it’s so important that we show up as allies to each other. No matter who they may or may not love, whether they’re trans or not, or what their feelings are about sexual relations, all aces are a part of the LGBT+ community, and you may have more in common with us than you think.
In this guest blog, writer Parker Thorn speaks about their experiences of coming out as ace, and a lack of ace acceptance within the LGBTQIA+ community.
Content warning: emotional and sexual abuse
Sometimes I think the queerest thing is to be asexual in Western society. Capitalism’s biggest tool is the promise of bumping uglies with your chosen other, so it’s a lonely and alienating experience when you realise how little appeal that holds for you. I spent my teenage years wondering what illness I had or what trauma I’d repressed for me to feel so uninterested in the thing that everyone around me insisted I should be.
When I first came across the word asexual (in the author’s note of a Joker/Scarecrow slash fic) and I googled it, I had one of those moments I think many queer people can relate to, that instant flashing epiphany where you read a definition and think – that’s it, that’s me, there’s a name for this, I’m not alone.
Every coming out involved elaborate explanation.
Trying to explain this to friends and family was a different matter entirely. It’s not as simple as, ‘Mum, Dad, I’m gay’. Every coming out involved elaborate explanation – that yes, this was a real thing and not something made up from the internet, and no I wouldn’t change my mind later on, and yes I was very happy like this, and no this doesn’t mean I hate romance, and oh my God no this is not the same as celibacy.
I imagine this conversation for aro people takes some painful, dehumanising twists as well. It was exhausting, and every time I felt the drip-drip of other people’s doubt wearing away at my new understanding of myself. But I’d expected this reaction from my religious, rigidly heteronormative family. The real kick in the teeth happened when I went online and discovered the aggressive ace-phobia coming from the one place I was sure I’d find understanding and acceptance.
Aces are queer. So why do so many people within the LGBTQIA+ community insist we’re not?
Part of it, I think, comes from the aforementioned fact that we are a society obsessed with sex. For individuals who have had to fight for their right to have sex with the people they want to, the idea of not wanting to use that privilege might seem ridiculous, dismissive even. But far more sinister is the argument that ace people face no discrimination for their identity and have so much straight-passing privilege that they have no right to force their way into a community designed as a safe space for those who genuinely need it.
If you spend any time in any ace community, you’ll discover stories of abuse. Manipulation, emotional blackmail, outright assault, often at the hands of spouses, partners, and friends who refuse to understand that lack of sexual desire is real and not something to be ‘fixed’. My first relationship was with an older man who constantly used sex as a weapon against me and refused to believe that asexuality could be real. ‘Sex is natural, sex is normal, you’re too young and too inexperienced to know that you don’t want sex, why are you so frigid, our relationship would be so much stronger if you weren’t such a prude’. It went on and on, building and building until the gaslighting and emotional abuse turned into sexual abuse.
When did trauma become the mark of queerness?
That relationship was the most harrowing event of my life, and I constantly find I have to trot it out and use it as justification for my queer existence. But when did trauma become the mark of queerness? There are more stories about queer characters struggling with their identity than there are stories about queer characters happily living their lives, whose queerness is such an undisputed part of themselves that it leaves them free to experience other stories that aren’t centred around their struggles with identity. The happy queer is almost a mythological creature.
None of this is to say we shouldn’t acknowledge queer pain. Many queer people have been through hell in their fight for acceptance, and I would never try to dismiss that. But if the basis for belonging in queer spaces is measuring your trauma against a non-existent benchmark, where is this going to end?
Love without sex is a difficult concept for society to grasp. ‘Just friends’ still holds a sting, ‘friend zoned’ is the punch line of far too many jokes, and there are still people who believe that sex is a biological need of the same importance as food and water. Watch a movie, and sex is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the hero’s reward at the end of the quest. You don’t have to have specific trauma to feel that special asexual exhaustion that comes from everything around you shouting that your existence as a human is lacking in the most fundamental of ways. So let us enjoy the label queer. We earn it every day.
If you have or are currently experiencing abuse of any kind, please reach out to those who can help:
- Rape Crisis England & Wales (provides support for women and girls affected by rape, sexual abuse or any form of sexual violence), 0808 802 9999, Live Chat Helpline
- Mankind (Provides one-to-one counselling, therapeutic groups and couple counselling to men (age 18+) who have experienced sexual abuse at any time in their lives)
Visit our Ace Hub.
CW: mentions of racism, police brutality, death
Reclaiming Black Horror – The stories are ours to tell
Three bold films by three Black-British writers, produced by Humblebee Creative’s Artistic Director Kamari Romeo.
George Floyd’s death triggered a ripple effect which was felt around the world. The brutal, senseless murder of a Black man by the very people who are paid to protect us has only been made worse by the fact we have had to view harrowing videos and images of his killing countless times on the news and social media. The rage, hurt and sadness that has been felt by Black people has been hard to bear. So, where do we put all of that pain? How can we channel it when it feels as if the white mainstream is still controlling the narrative, with films, documentaries and news of our suffering plastered all over social media, ready to trigger our trauma often without warning?
THE FLOYD EFFECT is a digital horror experience told through a series of three short films featuring stories told by Black-British writers who seek to highlight the horror stories that never make the headlines.
These films pose important questions investigating intersectionality, culture and historical racial trauma. Conceived by Kamari Romeo, THE FLOYD EFFECT is a response to allyship and how Black people are affected by this violence. Kamari said of the project: “I felt as if the reaction to the murders of Breonna Taylor and Tony McDade didn’t carry the same passion, interest and empathy as the killing of George Floyd. The resounding chant throughout the last few months has been that BLACK LIVES MATTER. But do all Black lives matter? Do Black women, Black disabled and Black trans lives matter? The thought that humanity is only reserved for specific people is terrifying but also hugely provocative.”
Kamari asked all writers at the beginning of the project what it is that they fear most and the conversations were the stimulus for all the pieces that were created. Horror was chosen as the genre for these films because horror allows us to connect with our truest and most innate feelings.
In Leah Kirby’s DUALITY, we find a trans origin story that explores what happens when a Black, trans, nonbinary person is pushed to their limit after years of being forced to be “palatable” by a society that questions their very existence on a daily basis. The narrative suggests that being trans isn’t about finding who you are, it’s about remembering; peeling back the layers of a cis, heteronormative society and discovering a truer version of yourself.
While working on the project, Leah discussed ideas around the tired tropes we are continually exposed to regarding trans people on screen, with so many of them ending up wrapped up in sex work or dying gratuitously bloody deaths: “This film came out of my desire to flip the trans narrative and reclaim power that often isn’t afforded to trans characters.”
Reece Pantry’s DRIBBLE allows us to witness a microaggression at its most terrifying as he exposes one of the more exhausting and common daily traumas we all seem to face as Black people: Constantly having to prove ourselves – whether it’s being followed around a store by the security guard and always having to keep your receipt, making sure you never forget your work pass in case you are mistaken for a criminal instead of a barrister prosecuting one or, in this case, defending that you’re parked exactly where you should be.
In conversations about the film, Reece said, “Perception is personable. What we receive, interpret and give out can send shockwaves through society in more ways than one. DRIBBLE is intended to force the audience to question their own judgement, taking them on a journey that just may change their perspective entirely.”
GATOR BAIT introduces us to the tradition of slave masters stealing the children of their workers and using them as bait in the hunting of alligators. Writer and director Ajira Bouchada casts her own mother and child in a chilling modern-day retelling of this horrifying history that sees technology lead a killer straight to the family home – with dire consequences. In creating this project, Ajira considered the lack of care and consideration afforded to slave mothers as they carried their children, still forced to work just as hard in the field, even close to full term, without comfort, rest and under constant threat of beatings and other punishments.
“There’s people who say, ‘This was four hundred years ago, can’t we forget? Can’t we move on?’... but there is a trauma that is carried down. My grandmother lived through colonial rule and there are certainly ways it affected her that would have influenced the way she raised my Mum and so, therefore, have affected me, maybe in ways I don’t necessarily understand,” Ajira said, when asked about the inspiration behind the film. “Gator Bait is about the fact that history is repeating itself, over and over again.”
As the terrified Black mother in Ajira’s film desperately tries to save her son from a white man with a gun (the Gator), parallels can easily be drawn to the grieving parents of young Black men killed by police officers in the US and UK.
THE FLOYD EFFECT was released on 1st November, the day after Halloween and a controversial “celebration’ for many Black people. This is particularly true for those who are from African cultures, grew up in the church and potentially for all of us who have continually witnessed the tired trope of “the Black guy being first to die” in countless mainstream horror movies.
Perhaps THE FLOYD EFFECT’s release is an opportunity for us to reclaim horror because even after the scariest day of the year, the horror isn’t over.
To mark the start of Disability History Month, Stonewall’s Accessibility Forum co-chairs are highlighting five LGBT disability organisations and collectives you should be supporting.
Become a better ally to the LGBT disabled community by learning more about these organisations and their incredible work.
Brownton Abbey
Created by queer black and brown disabled people, Brownton Abbey is a political performance party that creates spaces which centre, celebrate and elevate the disabled QTIBPOC community. Through these spaces the collective paves the way towards intersectional and accessible arts, community and activism.
ParaPride
ParaPride is committed to helping disabled people fully engage with the LGBT community and all its activities. The charity works with venues, public spaces and online platforms to create inclusive events that cater to the needs of all those living with disabilities, mental health and chronic health conditions, and impairments. They hosted the first London ParaPride in 2019.
Regard
Established in 1989, Regard raises awareness, offers support and combats social isolation for LGBTQ disabled people. They follow the Social Model of Disability, which believes society must remove systematic barriers that deny disabled people equal inclusion and rights.
Deaf Rainbow UK
Deaf Rainbow is a volunteer-led LGBT organisation providing, and advocating for, access for queer deaf and hard of hearing (HOH) people across the UK. They provide information, awareness, support and representation for deaf LGBT people.
Disabled, Queer and Here
In 2018, Wayne Allingham launched Disabled, Queer and Here, a performance show featuring talented LGBT disabled people. The events showcase a range of performance art, including drag, poetry, dance and song. The group aims to break down barriers and increase awareness, inclusion, diversity and accessibility for LGBT disabled people.
The coronavirus pandemic has had devastating effects on most aspects of society.
One consequence that’s perhaps not so obvious is that it’s meant news stories that might normally have made the front page are not being reported at all. There’s a concern that this allows governments to simply overlook matters of huge importance without anyone noticing or questioning them. The experiences of asylum seekers in the UK and the rest of Europe who are searching for safety due to their sexual orientation or gender identity (SOGI) need to be talked about.
There are still far too many people in Europe experiencing homophobia, biphobia and transphobia.
Europe has legal systems which offer great protection to all kinds of minorities such as those who make up the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community. Yet despite many parts being relatively liberal, there are still far too many people in Europe experiencing homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. Consider then escaping from a country which gives you no legal protection at all and could stone you to death for simply being who you are.
Research carried out by the University of Sussex discovered that in the UK and across Europe, almost thirty per cent of those seeking asylum on grounds related to their sexual orientation had their claims dismissed because their interviewers did not believe them.
When a person is not believed, it can compound an already fearful and stressful predicament.
In Britain, this is a good fit with the government’s ‘hostile environment’ policy on immigration. It’s not difficult for officials to reject those ultimately seeking British citizenship because applicants may find it impractical, or impossible, to produce evidence endorsing their claims. When you live in a country that effectively forces you to hide your identity, you’re unlikely to be able to come up with a stack of photos or intimate messages which provide proof of past relationships, for example. When a person is not believed, it can compound an already fearful and stressful predicament.
Researchers also uncovered evidence that the burden of proof is often unfairly skewed against the applicant. International law related to refugees requires that evidence-gathering is the equal obligation of both applicants and those who decide their claims. However, immigration officials often sat waiting to be persuaded rather than beginning proceedings with an open mind.
The experiences of some claimants make harrowing reading. One woman from an African state which gives no legal protection to gay people told of how she was frightened for her life after being discovered by police in bed with another woman. She had already suffered a forced marriage to an abusive husband and was subsequently raped by two men who claimed they were trying to ‘straighten her out’.
Her account of a seven-hour interview by a Home Office representative is disturbing. It was claimed that there had been nothing to prevent her from having a relationship with another woman once she was in the UK. She was asked why she hadn't taken advantage of this opportunity, and why then did she identify as being a lesbian? Her answer is heartfelt. Her identity came into being due to the feelings that she felt, she said, and in the past, she had not been given the freedom to live out her sexuality.
Being forced to prove something so personal as one’s sexual identity to a stranger is in itself potentially traumatic.
Being forced to prove something so personal as one’s sexual identity to a stranger is in itself potentially traumatic. It is unjust to compare the emotional trajectories of those who identify as gay, bi or trans, but who grew up in countries which may have very different laws and social attitudes, with the experiences of those who have lived in western Europe all their lives.
And yet applicants are having their applications for asylum rejected because they appear unable to provide sufficiently emotive language or thoughts that led to a realisation about their sexuality. Having one’s identity forensically picked over and then disbelieved puts intolerable psychological strain on applicants. These are people who are already likely to have been marginalised and suffered the prospect of violence or death in the countries they have fled, just because of who they are.
The UK should be standing up against homophobia, biphobia and transphobia at every opportunity.
The UK should be standing up against homophobia, biphobia and transphobia at every opportunity. Instead, when it comes to asylum seekers, the government seems to want to look the other way. By rejecting claims based on SOGI, there’s a quick and easy ‘win’ for the Home Office in its determination to reduce immigrant numbers with a policy of disbelief.